There are a lot of questions
To ask, but I kept still,
Holding them back.
Will you still hold your phone
For us, a little conversation
Just like in the past?
Are we still going to shed
Tears like when we’re in
The kitchen sink?
But life differs as we grow old,
And things won’t be the same
Like how I wanted it to.
We’re still in pain, and
You’re not coming home
And we’re not getting younger.
Life Backwards
joannachse 